My Christian walk has been a rebellion against pledging my allegiance to anything but Christ. One of the reasons I became a missionary was so that I could travel the whole world without ties to any certain nation.
I hate the word “patriotic”
I refuse to say the pledge of allegiance.
I don’t put my hand over my heart when the national anthem is sung.
When people call America a Christian nation, I have to stifle snide comments about pop culture, consumerism, oil-wars, and political scandal.
Imagine my surprise when last Saturday, I realized that…
It’s easy to say that I love the people… but I’m not just talking about the people… I love the cornfields…. I love the sidewalks…. I love the broken, messed up culture… I love the snow.
Last Saturday, while at a music festival I sang these words with a crowd of thousands. While they were singing about Manila, I was singing about Kalamazoo… Huntington… America.
Oh God high up in heaven
Won’t You heal our land
Living rain, fall again
Over my life over my land
Living rain wash my heart again
Open wide, heaven skies
Over my street oh Spirit reside
Living rain flood my life again
Come back, back to your first love
Back to your first love
At the foot of the Cross
Our culture is a gorgeous mess. Our church is a gorgeous mess.
And I love it.
I’m tired of trying to escape the place where God made me.